


Taking Game

by Deeranger



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Blackmail, Bottom Charles, Dominance, Erik Has Feelings, Erik has Issues, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Manipulation, One Shot, Oral Sex, Poor Charles, Rape/Non-con Elements, Top Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8306485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeranger/pseuds/Deeranger
Summary: The year of the lord 1452 brings much hardship to King Erik's kingdom, famine and uprisings spreading slowly but surely across the nation. Ruling with an iron fist King Erik does not tolerate disobedience - and when a notorious deer poacher is finally caught roaming his lands in order to feed his starving family the king decides to take matters into his own hands. And for more reasons than one. Facing the death penalty the young poacher finds himself face to face with the king himself, desperately seeking forgiveness and mercy. But is the king willing to to spare him? And if so, what will be the cost? (This story is spawned by my attached photo manipulation)





	

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/149965689@N04/34859663344/in/album-72157685729003886/)

 

 

Charles was pushed forwards roughly by the two men into the rather large hall. It was lit only by torches on the walls and candles on the oak tables and without even noticing Charles found himself looking around in awe of the majestic surroundings. Even though his stomach was one big knot of fear he couldn’t help but admire the luscious fabrics of the tapestries and drapings decorating the tall walls of the hall. There was no one here it seemed and their footsteps resounded against the walls. Long rows of wooden benches and tables seemed abandoned and fearfully Charles let himself be pushed across the floor. Resisting wouldn’t help anything. The men were highly trained servants of the king - probably knights as well - and they could kill him as easily as swatting a fly. Trying to run from them on the moor this morning had been a bad idea, they had caught up with him as quickly as a pack of wolves, binding his wrists and breaking his bow like had it been a twig. Charles thought of his family at home and his lower lip quivered slightly. If only he hadn’t been caught. What fate awaited him now? He could already hear the verdict ringing out in his mind - death by hanging. He could only hope that someone would show him mercy… not so much for his own sake, but for his family. He was the sole breadwinner, who was going to put food on the table when he was gone? And the children were still so young… The thought made his eyes water up immediately and he cursed himself in his mind. If only he hadn’t been caught. Suddenly the grip around his arm tightened and the men by his side started slowing down. Confused Charles looked at them. But their stone like faces didn’t reveal anything, not a single emotion were to be found in their eyes. Why were they stopping? Maybe they were going to kill him right here and now? Charles swallowed as his glance darted around, settling on some thin drapes in front of them. It looked like candle light was shimmering somewhere behind the silk but it was hard to tell because everything in here was shaded orange by the flames from the torches, light and shadows dancing on every surface. Charles thought he saw darker shadows moving around behind the drapes but that might as well be his imagination playing tricks on him. With his heart hammering in his chest he tried to carefully listen for any sounds… But the thumping of his heart and his pulse pounding in his ears were the only sounds he was able to hear at the moment. Suddenly the drapes moved and Charles heard himself suck in a gulp of air. From behind the drapes a man appeared, wiping the thin silk fabric casually to the side as he stepped out. He was wearing a golden crown. It couldn’t be…? Charls felt his entire body freeze and his jaw dropped slightly, his heart skipping a beat. The grip around his arm suddenly tightened.

“Kneel before your king!” one of the men in armor hissed and pushed him to the ground. Barely managing to prevent himself from smacking into the ground face first Charles landed on his elbows and forearms, scooting across the stone floor on his stomach. For a second he just lay there, frozen. Then Charles came to his senses, fear exploding in his mind and he feverishly scrambled to kneel before the king. He didn’t dare to get to his feet, instead he ended up almost kissing the floor, his head bowed so low that his forehead rested on the cold stone tiles. Silence fell. Without even noticing Charles had closed his eyes almost expecting a blow from a sword to hit him at any moment. 

“So this is the infamous poacher killing my deer,” a voice said and Charles almost flinched. It could only be king Erik speaking and a lightning bolt of awe shot through him along with a burning sensation of fear and guilt.

“I did expect someone of a more impressive stature,” the voice continued and Charles wished he could just disappear. He felt so ashamed.

“Quite puny I must say. Even for a mere peasant,” the king said and Charles heard footsteps approaching. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“State your name, poacher!” the king ordered and Charles almost jumped. Trying to gather his courage he opened his eyes, staring blindly at the floor in front of his face.

“Ch… Charles Xavier, sire,“ he stuttered, cheeks burning. He couldn’t comprehend the fact that he had just spoken to the king. The king himself. A pair of golden silk loafers decorated with shimmering precious stones stopped only inches from his bowed head.

"Why are you shooting my deer?” the king asked and Charles blinked in surprise. Licking his lip anxiously he felt himself starting to hyperventilate.        

“I… I…” Charles croaked hoarsely, panic setting in. It was like his vocal chords were paralyzed.

“SPEAK!” the king ordered, his voice bouncing off the walls and echoing down the hall. Charles jumped slightly.

“I… I have to feed my family, sire…! It was my only option, sire, please… I… Please forgive me…!” he stammered, words suddenly flowing from his mouth in chopped up bits threatening to stumble on each other. Charles’ eyes had watered up and the knot of fear in his stomach had grown to double size. He could hear a huff escaping the king and he felt like he was visibly shrinking before the tall, crowned man.

“You do know that poachers hang, do you not?” the king said and Charles felt his heart sink.

“Yes, sire…” he said under his breath, suppressing the urge to give in and start crying.

“I see… Well, I do hope the meat was worth it,” the king said, the loafers moving across the stone floor. Charles felt his shoulders starting to tremble, muscles contracting in small, silent sobs.

“Tell me, peasant… What will your family do now? Surely you did not tresspass against the crown without someone else to take your place putting food on the table? Clearly that would not be sensible,” the king said in a low voice. Without even noticing Charles let out a choked sound. Paling he felt a tear make its way out of the corner of his eye. He forced himself to suppress a sniffle.

“I… I am the only one of age besides my wife, sire…” Charles said lowly. It almost came out as a whisper. The king let out another huff as he slowly paced to and fro in front of him. He clicked his tongue.

“How very unfortunate,” he said, voice deprived of emotion as he spoke. Charles closed his eyes. This was it. He had failed. He had damned them all. His family would face certain death because of this. Finally he couldn’t hold it back anymore. His shoulders trembled more violently and he found himself crying, his forehead still resting respectfully against the stone floor in front of the king. Charles’ stomach turned and he was unsure if he was going to be sick.

“What a pity. I suppose in these hard times it is easy to be led into temptation,” the king said, loafers stopping in front of Charles once more. Unable to hold back the tears he sobbed, his entire body trembling.

“On your knees, peasant!” the king suddenly growled and Charles flinched in surprise. Quickly he straightened himself up and got to his knees obediently, expecting to feel the edge of a blade striking him down. But nothing came. Trembling Charles placed his sweaty palms on his knees instead, gaze respectfully lowered to the floor. The king started to circle him, his loafers grazing the stone floor giving off a soft, raspy sound. Trying to control himself Charles attempted to suppress the tears, but they just kept flowing down his cheeks. His thoughts kept returning to his family… They were waiting for him right now. Wondering where he was. Bellies empty and aching. A whimper escaped him.

“I could offer you a deal,” the king suddenly said. Charles immediately froze. What did he mean? How could he possibly show him any type of mercy after this crime?

“Sire…?” he heard himself say, dumbstruck. Completing another circle the king stopped in front of Charles.

“Leave us!” the king roared and instantly the two armored men bowed deeply and backed away, quickly exiting the hall. Confused Charles wanted to turn and look to see if they really did leave, but he didn’t dare to move a muscle. Instead he nervously kept his gaze glued to the floor, his chest heaving for air as the knot of fear in his stomach twisted and turned painfully.

“It would be a shame letting such a good archer go to waste. Say, how did you learn to handle a bow that well?” the king asked. This time his voice was almost soft. Confused Charles furrowed his brow in surprise.

“I… I had to learn or we would starve, sire,” Charles said insecurely, his fingers clenching the fabric of his rain drenched trousers. A chuckle escaped the man in front of him.

“Ah, necessity is the mother of invention indeed,” he said and suddenly placed a hand on Charles’ shoulder. Almost flinching Charles couldn’t believe that the king actually touched him. The weight of his broad hand and its heavy gold rings felt almost surreal. Incredulous Charles forced himself to keep staring at the floor and the king’s loafers.

“Do you wish for me to spare your life?” he asked bluntly. Charles blinked, feeling his heart beat harder in his chest.

“Yes, sire,” he croaked, not understanding what was going on. The king’s strong fingers squeezed his shoulder a little, the edges of the thick gold rings digging into Charles’ skin through his shirt slightly.

“Then you must do as I say,” he said and placed his other hand on Charles’ other shoulder, squeezing it as well.

“Will you do as I say, poacher?” he asked, firmly holding Charles in place by the shoulders, ignoring the man teembling under his touch.

“Of course, sire, I will do anything…!” Charles began, but the king cut him off.

“Good. I believe we have ourselves a deal then,“ he said flatly and lifted his right hand off Charles’ shoulder, holding it down in front of his bowed down face, indicating for him to kiss it. Feeling his heart somersaulting in his chest with both relief and anxiety Charles immediately placed a small, respectful kiss on the golden ring, careful never to lift his gaze off the floor.

"Fail me and I will let you hang,” the king said matter-of-factly and removed his hands. Charles suppressed the urge to send the king a grateful glance. He couldn’t believe that he would actually spare him…

“Thank you, kind sire…!” he burst out, breathless. The older man in front of him let out a chuckle.

“Get on your feet,” he said and immediately Charles scrambled to his feet, almost stumbling in the process. When he stood up he carefully made sure to place his hands behind his back to present himself as humble and respectful as he could. Still looking at the ground he couldn’t help but notice the king starting to circle him again. It was almost as if he was inspecting him.

“You seem healthy,” the king mumbled to himself. Charles could feel his breath on the back of his neck and a set a hands suddenly slipped under his arms and settled on his sides, startling him. He jumped a little.

“Calm now, poacher,” the man behind him said while his hands slid up and down, feeling his muscles and ribs. Frowning Charles stood completely still.

“A bit thin perhaps… I suppose that is only natural taking the famine into account,” the king said and his hands slid forwards on to the smaller man’s chest. Charles’ thin shirt was still damp from the rain outside and the king let his fingers slide along the contours of his muscles. Hesitant Charles kept looking at the floor, trying not to let his teeth chatter. Despite of the torches it was quite cold in the hall.

“Turn around,” the king ordered. Swallowing Charles obeyed and slowly turned around, his head bowed down and his glance fixing on the embellished loafers once again.

“Look at me,” he then said. Charles froze instantly, fear jolting through him again. How could he possibly look his king in the eye? It was improper for a peasant to even be in the presence of the king, but to look at him…? Shakily Charles forced himself to look up. Slowly his gaze wandered up a lush, brown robe with gold stitching and detailed embroidery. The light from the candles and torches colored everything in a golden shimmer, reflecting in the fabric’s threads of gold. His gaze reached the king’s neck and he had to swallow hard in order not to cast down his glance. But an order was an order and Charles let his gaze continue to wander upwards. The king had a reddish beard covering a rather prominent chin. His nose on the other hand was quite delicate and his cheeks featured high cheekbones. Finally Charles looked at his eyes. He suppressed a gasp when he realized that the king was looking directly at him, a shockwave of surprise and panic immediately rushing through him. The king’s gaze was firm and hard and his eyes were a steelish blue tinted a slight shade of green. Wide-eyed Charles forced himself to keep locked in eyecontact.

“Impressive,” the king said under his breath. Lifting up his hands he placed them on Charles’ waist, the tips of his long fingers touching the small of his back. Charles had to cast down his glance. The king let out a grin.

“Don’t be frightened…” he said and rubbed his fingertips against the thin fabric of Charles’ shirt. The king then tilted his head and looked at the shorter man, drawing him closer to him.

“Take off your clothes,” he said. Confusion was painted on Charles’ face as he hesitated. Had he heard him right?

“I expect you to honour our agreement. Do not make me look a fool,” the king then said and grabbed his chin, his voice now low and rumbling. Charles’ lips parted slightly in bewilderment. The king’s grasp on his chin was firm, yet oddly gentle. Why did he want him to take his clothes off? The king let go of his chin with a little push, clearly indicating his impatience. Dumbstruck Charles quickly reached down and grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head. For a moment he just stood there with the shirt in his hand not knowing where to put it or how to act. Then he realized that the king had probably meant all of his clothes and he dropped the shirt to the floor in order to take his trousers off. As he loosened the hemp rope he used as a belt thoughts were racing back and forth in his mind. As he undid the knot on the rope he let his trousers fall to the floor and he immediately found himself shielding his naked privates with his hands. He was trembling from the cold and he felt utterly exposed and utterly confused.

“Did I tell you to cover yourself?” the king said flatly. Charles hesitated but then shook his head.

“N… No, sire…” he said and placed his hands behind his back again, now standing totally exposed in front of the king. His mind was spinning. The king was circling him again, inspecting him carefully with his hands behind his back as well.

“Now listen carefully, poacher. I want you to lie with me. I expect you to fully and willingly give yourself to me. Is that understood?” he said matter-of-factly. Charles’ eyes widened in disbelief. A chill ran down his spine and if they hadn’t already because of the cold every single hair on his body would have stood up by his words. Without even realizing it he was sucking in air in fast, irregular gulps. His glance was darting to and fro on the stone floor and the king’s loafers came even closer. It felt like time was standing still and Charles’ mind was spinning, a nauseating feeling spreading through him like wildfire. He flinched when a broad hand placed itself on his stomach.

“Is that understood? Yes or no?” the king said in a deep voice. It was clear that he was not going to ask again and Charles felt his eyes watering up once more. Convincing himself to obey he closed his eyes shortly to muster up some strength to answer the question.

“Yes, sire,” he said, his voice sounding thin and shaky. A small chuckle escaped the king.

“Splendid,” he said and pulled Charles closer, almost embracing him. The luscious silk of the robe felt smooth against Charles’ skin and the thought occured to him that he had never touched silk before. It felt strange. But even more strange was the sensation of the king’s fingers sliding down his abdomen. Panicky Charles forced himself not to back away as the taller man leaned in and placed a little kiss behind his ear. A shudder ran through Charles.

“I am glad that we have an accord. The servants here at court are quite a bore. Much unlike you…” the king whispered into his ear. The warmth of his breath carried with it a scent of wine and brandy and Charles swallowed a whimper trying to make its way out of his mouth.

“Come,” the king said and suddenly pulled away from him, gesturing towards the thin drapes in front of them. Instantly Charles’ stomach turned.

“Do not be shy,” the king said as he pulled aside the drapes, opening them up for Charles. Feeling like he wanted to scream from the top of his lungs Charles paled - but he gathered himself the best he could and stepped into the small room behind the drapes. On his way he had to brush against the king in order to pass through. Once he was inside the room he stopped. Carefully he looked around. There was an oak desk with papers, feather pens and a small candlestick, a big leather chair with silver legs and a large bed covered with white silk sheets and fine furs. He shuddered in a mix between being awestruck and feeling terrified. Behind him he could hear the king approaching him and he froze, his hands placed on his back again. As the king passed him he let his fingers brush the skin on his buttock before walking towards the bed. As he reached it he turned around to face Charles, a small smile lingering in the corner of his mouth. The fire from the candles reflected in his eyes as he reached down and opened his robe, letting it fall from his shoulders and onto the floor. Leaving the king naked the light silk robe made almost no sound when it hit the stone tiles. In shock Charles immediately looked at his own feet, flustered and scared. His cheeks were burning even though he was freezing.

“Come here,” the king ordered as he sat himself down on the edge of the bed, patting the silk with his hand as if that was going to encourage him. Obediently Charles walked to the bed and carefully sat himself down next to the king. He felt almost numb, like his mind was in some sort of haze. Although sheer panic was lurking in there, lingering in the shadows and waiting to attack. The king bent down and took something from the floor, holding it up in front of Charles’ face. It was a large silver goblet.

“Drink,” he said and gestured for Charles to take the goblet, embellished with four dark red rubies on its sides. Slowly Charles reached for it and when his cold fingers closed around it he accidentally touched the king’s fingers with his own, causing Charles to almost drop the goblet in shock. But instead of letting go the king held on to the goblet for just long enough to let Charles regain his composure and tighten his grip a little, forcing him to let their fingers touch. King Erik let out small chuckle and finally let go. The goblet was heavier than Charles had thought and the red liquid inside swirled around dangerously as he looked down at it.

“Wine. It will make you feel better,” the king said and sent him a smile. Trembling Charles put the goblet to his lips and drank the red spirit, cringing slightly by the strong taste. He had never tasted wine before, only the occasional mead. Focusing on the taste he managed to ignore a hand settling on his upper thigh, kneading the muscle. But before he knew it the goblet was empty.

“Do you wish for more?” the king asked, almost as if he could read his mind. Looking at the floor Charles nodded, his dark brown locks still glued to his head from the rain. His cheeks had started to burn in an odd way, he noticed. It was probably the wine. The king had reached for a big pitcher and poured more of the red liquid into the goblet, his hand steadying it by placing itself on top of Charles’.

“I assume you have never shared a bed with a man before?” he suddenly asked bluntly. Charles froze slightly as he drank from the goblet, desperately trying to numb his nerves.

“I have not, sire,” Charles said and was surprised that he wasn’t stuttering. Frowning he downed more of the wine in big gulps. Just as he finished the last bit the king grabbed the goblet and removed it.

“That is enough,” he said and placed it back on the floor.

“I do wish for you to be present,” he half-grinned as he reached out and grabbed Charles’ chin, turning his head to the side to look at him. Panicky Charles realized that by doing this the king forced him to either look him in the eye or to look at his naked body. Making a fast decision Charles found himself looking at the king’s erect penis and he let out a little, almost inaudible gasp. He was huge. Shuddering Charles realized that his head was buzzing oddly. The hand on his thigh had started to move towards his groin but somehow he didn’t feel as scared as before. Blinking to clear his vision he noticed precum glistening on the tip of the king’s manhood. The king turned towards him a little.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, but his voice was almost soft. Not as barking and demanding as earlier. Or maybe he just imagined it. Feeling himself tense up a little Charles heard himself utter a compliant ’ yes, sire’ as he moved down from the edge of the bed, placing himself in front of the king on his knees. This position was humiliating… This whole situation was beyond degrading. And it was wrong. Charles knew this. The king must know this too, he thought. He just prayed that he wouldn’t be judged for this… or that he would be less of a man. In his own eyes. In his wife’s eyes. In God’s. Maybe, even though he did not want to do this, he would still be doomed to linger in purgatory forever? The thought scared him and instantly he tensed up, hesitating. Apparently the king noticed because suddenly a warm hand was placed on top of his head.

“What do you fear, poacher?” he asked softly. It almost sounded like he was genuinely interested. Charles shuddered.

“God, sire…” he whispered in a trembly voice. Charles almost jumped when the king started to laugh. Baffled he kept his head bowed as the king’s hand patted his head and his fingers caressed his hair.

“God, you say?” the king asked, laughter resounding in the small room.

“Am I not your king?” he then asked, his laughter subsiding and his voice turning more serious. Carefully Charles bit his lip.

“Yes, sire,” he said quietly and squeezed his eyes shut when the fingers on his head grabbed a hold of his hair and slowly forced his head upwards a little.

“Then it is me you should fear,” the king said, piercing Charles with his gaze when he opened his eyes. For a moment they were locked in eye contact. Even though king Erik was terrifying he also had a small smile lingering on his lips which made him seem slightly less intimidating. Charles swallowed.

“Of course, sire,” he said and let out a soft pant when the king finally let go of his hair. The dull pain in his scalp quickly subsided and Charles immediately averted his glance. His head was buzzing even more now and he felt strangely warm even though he was trembling from the cold. He felt the hand on top of his head again. It was pushing him down towards the king’s erection.  

“Suck on it, poacher,” the king demanded in a husky voice, his fingers playing with strands of his hair. Closing his eyes Charles knew that he had to do this no matter if God would judge him for it or not. Carefully he opened his mouth just as the hand pressed his head down further - and his lips touched the tip of the king’s throbbing erection. It was a strange sensation. The hardness covered in velvety skin slid inside his mouth as the king pressed himself upwards eagerly. Charles coughed and the other man pulled back a little, allowing him to take a deep breath before pressing himself inside again. Charles closed his eyes as he automatically placed his hands on the king’s knees for balance when the thrusts became more aggressive. Shocked by his own disrespectful action to put his hands on the king, he tried to move his hands away but a strained groan came from the king and the grip on Charles’ hair tightened.

“Stay!” the king ordered and Charles froze, letting his hands stay on the king’s knees.

“Have you truly not done this before or is it the wine?” the king moaned with a laugh as he guided the younger man to bop his head up and down, taking him almost down his throat. Charles suppressed the urge to gag and tried the best he could to relax his throat. He could feel how the king’s knees trembled slightly as he did. He then pulled at his hair lightly, making Charles let go of him. A thin sheet of sweat was covering the king’s skin, making him glisten in the candle light in a bronze like hue - like a statue of a Greek god. Carefully Charles looked up, heaving for air. Slightly disoriented he had to blink to try and clear his vision. King Erik reached down and stroked himself, leaning his head back slightly in arousal.

“Get on the bed,” he groaned. Dizzily Charles felt chills running down his spine, despite of the effect the wine had on him. A distant sense of panic seemed to be trying to settle in his mind, stubbornly lodging itself in his brain. He had almost got up from his knees when he hesitated. He jumped a little when a hand closed around his wrist, pulling him to his feet resolutely.

“Do as I say!” the king said, a fire now burning his eyes. Before Charles knew it he had been turned around and a set of hands pushed him in the chest, sending him falling on to the bed on his back, arms flailing. With a soft moan Charles landed on the smooth silk sheets. Before he could get up on his elbows the king was straddling him, knees on each side of Charles’ hips. The king was looking at him with an almost predatory glance, his hands pinning Charles’ arms above his head as he leaned down over him. Frozen Charles could feel the warm gusts of air from his breath as he started planting small, wet kisses all over his chest and neck. Not daring to resist Charles let the kisses and bites rain down over him, leaving red marks on his pale, freckled skin. His stomach turned when the king suddenly scooted down and grabbed a hold of his legs, parting them with more force than what was needed. Frightened by the sudden change in behavior and the king’s rather brutal way of handling him Charles let out a whimper, knowing what was coming next. He had no choice but to endure whatever he was going to be put through. He had to. For the sake of his family. Closing his eyes Charles let his body go limp. But suddenly the king stopped manhandling him. Charles could feel the silk sheets move a little and the feeling of warm air hitting his face returned - the king had to be right above him.

“Do you remember our agreement?” his voice suddenly asked, a little out of breath. Carefully Charles opened his eyes a little, looking up at the king’s face as he towered above him, his hands planted solidly on each side of his head.

“Y… Yes?” Charles stammered, ignoring the buzzing in his head and the fact that the king seemed to have doubled. He could feel his hard erection rubbing against his upper thigh, the king being significantly taller than himself.

“I think you have forgotten a crucial part of it, poacher,” the king whispered and brushed some strands of hair away from Charles’ face.

“See, you are to lie with me giving yourself fully and willingly,” he said, emphasizing the last word by pronouncing it slowly and very clearly.

“I want you to desire me,” he said and rubbed himself against Charles’ thigh a little harder. Swallowing Charles stared up at him, panic starting to bubble somewhere in his hazy mind. Feverishly he discovered that he was nodding his head.

“Good. If you do it well I might even be gentle with you,” the king said and leaned down towards Charles, brushing his lips against his. The word ‘gentle’ kept ecchoing in Charles’ head. Convincing himself to ignore his mind’s protests Charles suddenly kissed him. He tasted like the wine in the goblet. For a second the king seemed surprised and hesitated a little. When Charles kept gently kissing his lips the king eagerly placed a hand on the side of his neck and let his tongue sneak inside his mouth, tasting him and exploring him. Charles suppressed the sensation of dread when the king’s hand slid down his torso and started to fondle him. Trying to imagine that he was kissing a woman Charles swirled his tongue around the king’s and let the buzzing feeling in his head roam free instead of trying to suppress it. The rough beard on the king’s chin was distracting him, but as he pulled back a little Charles sucked on his lower lip, earning a little moan from the surprised king. For a moment they were locked in eye contact. The king’s steel eyes were blazing with lust and Charles shuddered even though he felt warm, almost feverish. The king then spread his legs slowly and started to position himself between them. Charles sucked in a big gulp of air when he felt the tip of the erection touch his hole.

“Easy,” the king said lowly and spat into his hand. With fingers covered in saliva he began to push gently against Charles’ clenched muscle, probing and caressing him. Trying to get his body to relax Charles closed his eyes, focusing on staying calm despite of being touched down there. He had never been touched there before and the sensation was new and terrifying. Deeply concentrating he could feel himself growing a little softer against the king’s eager fingers. He pushed against Charles again and this time the tip of his finger slid inside him. A gasp escaped Charles and his eyes shot open by the sudden sensation, sending a shiver through him. The king kept massaging him.

“Relax,” he moaned, his free hand kneading Charles’ flaccid manhood. Exhaling deeply Charles let him and closed his eyes again to focus. The pressure increased and suddenly two fingers were inside him, penetrating him deeply. A strained groan escaped Charles and he discovered that he was arching his back slightly.

“You are a sight for sore eyes, poacher,” the king moaned as he inserted a third finger, stretching Charles even more. The younger man grimaced, but went with it, adjusting himself to the sudden intrusion. Breathing through his teeth Charles tried to control his breathing, clenching the sheets with his fingers. The king suddenly angled his fingers a little differently, pressing against something inside of Charles that made him shiver with something other than discomfort. A silent grin decorated the king’s face as he massaged Charles’ prostate, watching the muscles of the young man’s abdomen contract in small, involuntary twitches. A choked moan escaped Charles and surprised he looked down at himself only to learn that he had grown a little hard in the king’s hand. Confused he laid his head back down on the silk sheets, not quite understanding what was happening to his body. The king leaned down a little.

“I am going to take you now,” he said and stroked Charles, who had now grown almost completely hard. Warily and heaving for air Charles looked up at king Erik who sent him a skew smile.

“Will you let me take you?” he asked, sliding his fingers in and out of Charles who was growing increasingly soft, his walls stretching and adjusting. Charles arched his back a little more, unsure of what he should answer. He wanted to say no, but clearly he couldn’t. He had to obey no matter what and his body seemed to be doing it almost by itself.

“Yes, sire,” Charles gasped, swallowing hard.

“Then ask me,” the king said, looking down at him challengingly. For a moment Charles froze, confused by the request. He could feel a slight burning in his loins and to his surprise he realized that he was actually more aroused than he thought. The spot that the king’s fingers were hitting was doing strange things to him and it was like he had lost control over his own body. Did he really want this?

“Ask me, poacher” the king said, plunging his fingers in even deeper. Charles immediately let out a moan, pressing the back of his head down into the sheets as he arched his back.

“Please, sire…!” Charles whimpered and he couldn’t help but squirm a little.

“Mmm…?” the king said in an inquiring manner, all while he kept moving his fingers faster and harder. Charles exposed his teeth in a grimace.

“Please, please… Will you please take me, sire…?” Charles heard himself say. He almost didn’t recognize his own voice. It sounded different.

“Oh, I will take you, poacher…” the king groaned as he suddenly pulled out his fingers. Charles let out a gasp by the sudden emptiness and lifted his head to look down. Amazed he stared at himself dripping precum onto his stomach in warm, sticky drops. Then suddenly he felt the tip of the king’s erection press against him, slowly starting to stretch him again. A gasp escaped him as a sensation of pain mixed with pleasure rippled through him when the king pressed harder. Charles clenched his fistfuls of the silk sheets, his knuckles turning a milky white. Then his body gave in as the king’s full girth, slick with saliva and precum, slid inside him, stretching him to the limit. Charles bared his teeth in a silent scream as the king buried himself to the very base of his shaft, his balls hitting Charles’ buttocks. Letting out a groan the king leaned down over Charles further, lifting his legs up on his shoulders as he started to thrust. Drops of sweat were running down his face, the crown slighty askew on his head as he thrust harder, gripping Charles’ wrists and pinning them above his head. He didn’t resist. The king placed rough kisses on his chest, his beard scratching and grazing his skin as he went. Charles found himself looking at him, feeling himself throb almost painfully every time he pulled out only to plunge back into him. Shivering he returned the kiss when the king crashed his lips down on his, his tongue eagerly entering his mouth. The smell of sex was heavy in the room and the sound of skin hitting skin resounded in the hall. Every time the king hit the spot inside of him Charles couldn’t help but let out a moan and every time he did it only seemed to egg the king on. He buried himself in Charles as deep as he could go and Charles could feel him starting to tense up, arching his back. His thrusts became faster and more erratic, his hands letting go of Charles’ wrists and clenching his thighs instead, his legs draped over his broad shoulders. Slamming into him the king ground his teeth and Charles could feel him growing even bigger and harder inside of him, his fingertips digging painfully into his skin. Growling something incoherent the king thrust into him hard and deep as his hips bucked, exposing his teeth as he let out a choked groan. His entire body trembled as he spasmed, almost cramping as he came. For a moment he didn’t breathe and his vision consisted only of bright stars, his hands clenching Charles’ thighs hard enough to bruise. As Charles felt him filling him to the brim he himself started to tense up. To his surprise he twitched when the king’s broad hand closed around him, stroking him eagerly. Still inside him the king pressed himself hard against Charles while he stroked him, eager to see the younger man’s beautiful face contort in a grimace in a mix of agony and ecstasy. It didn’t take long before Charles’ breathing became more shallow and his hips bucked a little. He was biting his lower lip and suddenly the king pressed his fingers inside of him again, curling them slightly to press against that magic spot. In an instant Charles let out a groan and bucked, arching his back as his lips parted and he let out an almost agonized yelp. As he came a long spurt of white cum shot onto his stomach and chest, his fists pulling helplessly at the sheets. Staring blindly at the ceiling his body cramped and he held his breath. The king’s hand was now softly kneading his manhood, sticky with cum and Charles twitched, starting to come down from his high. Out of breath he looked up at the king above him while his vision adjusted, the last stars vanishing. The king was looking at him triumphantly, a smile decorating his face. Immediately Charles felt an overwhelming sense of shame wash through him and he cast down his glance. He wanted to cover up. He didn’t want to lie here naked in front of his king, but he didn’t dare to grab the sheets and cover himself. Not without permission. The king let out a satisfied sigh as he swung his legs out over the edge of the bed, sending Charles a smile.

“I have to say, poacher… You are very flexible for a virgin,” he said and let out a small grin, picking up his robe from the floor.

“Ca… Can I please put my clothes back on, sire?” Charles asked carefully. Looking a little surprised the king turned around a little to look at him.

“In a hurry?” he asked, his voice more soft than Charles had anticipated. His steel eyes had a warm shine to them now and he tilted his head as he looked at the younger man on his bed. Charles’ glance darted to and fro.

“I, eh… I have to get home, sire. If… If sire allows me to,” he said quietly, his cheeks burning magenta with guilt and shame. The king huffed.

“Of course I will allow you to. You kept your word after all. And you did very well,” he said and looked at little contemplative. He then leaned down towards him slightly.

“I will ask you to stay a little longer though,” he said and smiled at him. Charles felt like he could disintegrate just by the king looking at him like that. It was almost as if the mighty man was fond of him. Shuddering Charles swallowed.

“Yes, sire,” he said, feeling his heart sink. The king let out a small chuckle, but he looked almost sad.

“I haven’t asked you yet,” he said softly, sounding almost disappointed. Frowning slightly Charles looked at him. The king was looking out into the room, like his glance was fixed at something far, far away. In that moment he almost looked… vulnerable. He almost looked human, Charles thought. Then the king seemed to snap out of it and he turned his head back to look at Charles.

“You are free to go. But I do hope that you will keep me company for a little while. In exhange for your company I will give you a deer,” the king said, his voice soft and honest.

“Will you stay for a little while?” the king asked. Perplexed Charles looked at him, not quite able to decide what to do. Suddenly he felt bad for the king. The very king that had just used him. How could he possibly feel any kind of compassion for this man? At the same time all he wanted to do was to get out of there as fast as his legs could carry him. But a deer would put food on the table for a week… Biting his lip Charles looked up at king Erik. He looked back at him with those steel eyes, but they were no longer piercing him. They were no longer cold and harsh. Charles swallowed.

“I… I can stay for a little while, sire,” he heard himself say. The king’s expression immediately brightened and he exposed his teeth in a wide grin.

“I suppose I owe you one deer then, poacher” he said and grabbed the silk sheet, wiping the cum off Charles’ stomach, cleaning him up. Charles let him, twitching slightly as the king cleaned him carefully, wiping at his oversensitive manhood - seemingly completely disregarding the fact that the expensive sheets were getting soiled. The king then took the robe still dangling from his hand, spreading it out over Charles’ naked body. Incredilously Charles looked up at the king, baffled by this sudden gesture.

“Thank you… sire,” he said, feeling his lips form a small but genuine smile. The king smiled back and shrugged slightly. For some time he just sat there while Charles lay under his silk robe, exhausted and almost on the verge of falling asleep at times. It was odd but for some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on Charles didn’t feel as intimidated by his king anymore. He still felt ashamed and he still felt dirty and used… But this was probably no worse than so many other things one had to endure to stay alive, he thought. He couldn’t hate him. Even though he wanted to. After all he had spared his life and the lives of his family. It had come at a price. Everything does, he thought, while looking at the candle’s flame steadily burning by the desk. The king watched him carefully as he slowly but surely lost the battle against the urge to sleep. He felt guilty. He felt bad for the poor boy. He had wanted him ever since he first saw him on the moors during a hunt… The agile young man with the bow and quiver full of arrows on his back, running as soon as he spotted them. He had even sought him out, riding alone in disguise on horseback in an attempt to get closer to him. But he hadn’t been able to ever get close enough. Until today. It had taken some desperate measures and his treatment of the boy had not been as fair as he had wanted it to be. But it had been the only way. It had been a delicate procedure, the king thought. On one hand he couldn’t afford to lose face in front of the soldiers, the state of the country being what it was and an uprising smoldering steadily both at court and in the countryside. He had had no choice but to treat him a little roughly. The boy was after all taking his game. On the other hand the boy was only doing what he had to. And he found himself feeling strangely devoted to him, feeling almost guilty that he was using him the way he was. The king let out a silent sigh, eyes resting on the sleeping man on his bed.

The candles were almost burned down when the king placed his hand on Charles’ shoulder, waking him. For a moment Charles was confused and unsure of where he was, it seemed. Then he remembered and immediately his cheeks flushed with red.

“It is time to go home to your family,” the king said, his voice sounding oddly compassionate. Frowning slightly and rubbing his eyes Charles nodded.

“Your clothes are dry,” the king added and patted the bundle of clothes now lying at the foot end of the bed. Surprised Charles sat up and grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head, the king’s robe still covering his lower body. Clearly sensing the younger man’s shyness, the king got up from the bed and turned his back to him, allowing him to get fully dressed without watching him. When he turned back around Charles was standing with his hands behind his back, fully clothed and his cheeks slightly pink, staring at the ground respectfully. The king slowly approached him and he was secretly delighted that the boy didn’t flinch or cower this time when he leaned in a little.

“I have one request before we part, poacher,” he said carefully as he studied his facial expression. He was looking more surprised and curious than worried. That was good.

“I intend to offer you a deer each time you should decide to keep me company,” the king said and watched as Charles started to look contemplative and slightly fearful.

“The company does not necissarily include… Carnal activities. Unless you grant permission,” he hurried to add. This seemed to relax the boy a little.

“I do not ask an answer of you at this moment, poacher. But I do hope that you will consider my offer,” he said, a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth. He knew that the boy would have to give it some thought. His hunting grounds - the king’s land - was now off limits. Of course he could still shoot his deer, but if his men caught him once again he would have no choice but to let him hang. He didn’t want that to happen. He was sure the boy didn’t either. This way he could get food on the table without risking his neck.

“I… I will, sire,” Charles said, not quite able to take in what the king was offering.

“Now go. Go home to your family. In the court yard friar Benedict will provide you with the deer you earned,” the king said and gestured for Charles to get moving. Dusk was setting outside. Charles nodded.

“Thank you, kind sire,” Charles said under his breath, backing away from his king slowly and respectfully with his head bowed deep. As he walked back out of the hall he breathed a sigh of relief, sucking in the cold autumn air as he stepped out into the court yard. As he turned around he could see the king still standing in front of the drapes, looking at him. Soreness radiated throughout Charles’ body, and his head was aching slightly from the wine. Carefully he closed the doors between himself and the king. He almost felt free. And he was alive. He wouldn’t even go to bed hungry today. And most importantly - his family wouldn’t either. As promised a friar dressed in a black cloak was standing by a well, a freshly killed deer lying by his feet. Charles sent him a small smile, his cheeks burning as he picked up the deer, carrying it across his shoulders. He made his way out of the court yard and across the bridge with its soldiers standing guard as statues not uttering a single word as he passed them. As he walked down the forest trail, limping a little from the soreness, he was grateful to be alive. And he was grateful to his king for allowing it. He thought about king Erik’s generous offer… Strange as it was. He would have no choice. He might swear here and now that he would never go back there. That he would never subject himself to anything like that again. But once the meat from this deer ran out and the children started crying and the moldy bread and cabbage ran out too he knew that he would do it all over again. He might just be a simple man, a peasant and a poacher… But he would serve his king faithfully and he would do whatever he had to to keep his family alive and sound. Yes, he would do it all over again. And maybe, in time, he might even be able to take a little pleasure in it too. Surprised with his own thoughts his cheeks flushed with red and he breathed in deep as he knocked on the door to his small cabin in the woods. Waiting for his wife to come rushing out to greet him he found himself thinking of the king. The way he had touched him. And how he had felt himself react so strongly to his touch. He heard footsteps behind the door and his heart fluttered. He would have to blame the cold for his scarlet cheeks.

 

 


End file.
